


Still Craving Your Kiss

by thalia_muse_of_comedy



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Jazz Club, M/M, Singer America, Waiter England
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 21:19:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2788127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalia_muse_of_comedy/pseuds/thalia_muse_of_comedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred sings and plays the trumpet for Mattie's Jazz Club where he and Arthur mutually pine for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Craving Your Kiss

       A person notices two things when they walk into Mattie’s Jazz Club: the smoke and the smooth voice that rings out over the quiet din of glassware and piano music. It’s his night again, and the patrons are nearly silent as Alfred Jones enchants them with promises of love and adoration. The only time he’s silent is when he wraps his perfect, swollen lips around the mouth of his trumpet.

    Tonight, he’s wearing a dark blue vest over a white shirt, every one of his muscles outlined perfectly. His set is long but riveting, even Mattie joins in with his soulful saxophone for a song or two. He’s not going to deny most of the people here tonight to see his brother, to hear him croon.

     Alfred is the voice that rings out: luminous, vibrant, soothing. Arthur is the smoke. The waiter blends in while making his rounds slowly to the beat of the upright bass. The empty glasses disappear and the next round materializes. Few pay him mind. Few bother to look into his piercing green eyes. Few take note of his lithe fingers around the base of glass. The patrons miss his blonde head weave about the club.

      Alfred can always see him through the haze and lights. He watches the beautiful specter go about his business with hardly a glance towards the singer. When Arthur does bother to meet his eyes, the smile on his lips makes Alfred tremble from the excitement of being watched. He brushes his hair back with a sweaty hand and turns to his pal Davie on the drums asking him to get the next song started. Alfred sets his lips to his trumpet and blows.

          Arthur stands far away from the stage watching Alfred pause before putting his lips to his instrument, almost like the reverent pause before prayer. Arthur fingers the matchbook hidden in his trouser pocket, wondering what it would be like to have Alfred pausing like that if Arthur was the one beneath his hands. Each finger pressing down on him with the intent of creating a new kind of music. If only Alfred would wrap his mouth around him and blow.

         With hot cheeks, Arthur comes back to his senses as the song closes. Mattie takes the microphone from Alfred. Last call is starting, and Arthur will be damned if he neglects everyone at their tables.

          Davie hits the snare softly. Softly, the music became a wave with Alfred’s deft trumpeting entrancing all. With a subtle pop, he begins to sing,

_“Stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper I love you. Birds singing in the sycamore tree, dream a little dream of me.”_

Alfred’s voice makes Arthur’s face hot. He wants that voice whispering sweet nothings into his ears morning, noon, and night.

_“Stars fading but I linger on dear, still craving your kiss.”_

The singer watches the server place the last drink on a table directly in front of the stage. Their eyes meet and hold as Alfred traces his free hand down the stand. He wants those eyes on him in the sun, the dark, in the dim light of a bedroom.

_“I’m longing to linger ‘til dawn dear, Just saying this.”_

Alfred smiles knowingly as he sees Arthur take a gulp. The waiter has eyes only for the front man’s fingertips.

_“But in your dreams, whatever they be, dream a little dream of me.”_

  After Mattie’s Jazz Clubs doors close to the public, one notices two things: the light of a match and a smooth voice whispering, “I bet you taste better when you don’t smoke.”

It’s his night again, and Arthur is silent as Alfred enchants him with promises of love and adoration.


End file.
